Phil's life
by TADAHmon
Summary: Ok, we'll try this again. I realized after receiving a kinda sucky review that I had posted two prologues so I took them down and am reposting.
1. Default Chapter

I don't own Hey Arnold!  
  
Prologue  
  
Phil's life   
  
Hi, there. It's me, Arnold's Grandpa! The Short-man is in school, so I'm bored. Would you like to hear a story? ... I'll take that as a yes. Kids now-a-days, they just don't appreciate us old-timers, not that I'm old or anything! Anyhow, this story is about some things I endured as a kid! No, it's not a story from the dinosaur age. No, it's not from the stone age either! You're annoying me, I hope you know. Oh, you do realize? Glad to hear it. Anyhow, when I was a kid, we didn't have a lot of the conflabbed conviences kids now-a-day have. No-siree-Bob. Instead, we spent our time working for our parents and the majority of us couldn't go to school because our parents couldn't afford it. The main things in my life at that time was my best friend, Jimmy Kafka and this little blonde girl named Gertie. . . .   
  
Ch. 1: Catastrophe with a capital G  
  
"So, Phil, what do you want to do after school?" Jimmy Kafka spoke up, his brown hair blowing about in the morning wind as we worked to rake the sidewalk with a couple of flimsy rakes held together by rotted wood.  
  
I thought for a little bit before finally deciding-- "Baseball. We can have a quick game before supper, just we boys."  
  
Jimmy nodded and bent over the rake, working some more, before leaning against the wood until it cracked and finally broke into two. "Oh, boy! Pa will have my hide..." He ran off, dragging the split in two rake with him. "See you at school, Phil!"  
  
Yep, school. The horror of most kids. I'm goin' into first grade an' ain't even sure how long I'll be able to stay-- somethin' to do with money. All I know is I'm supposed to help my pa but he wants me to learn as much as I can before we can't afford school. As I went back to scraping the sidewalk with the sharp ends of the rake, I was watchin' to make sure I didn't catch my foot with it and thinking about the baseball game at the end of the schoolin'.  
  
* * *  
  
Hours later, felt like days, we were finally released from the place that was our school. "Jimmy, how did you do 'n the spellin'?" I asked, as we walked towards this little makeshift playfield that we had created just for baseball.  
  
"Not too good. I got all confused," he responded, kicking at some gravel. It skidded to the middle of the street and stopped until we arrived and I kicked at it. We continued on silently until a girl rushed past us, pushing Jimmy into me and continuing on, her short blonde hair curling around her head.  
  
"Hmm," Jimmy mumbled, glaring over at her. "Gertie M. Smith!"  
  
"Yep." We watched her for a minute until it dawned on us: she was heading for the baseball field!   
  
"Hey!" Jimmy protested, rushing towards the stretch of land. "Girls can't play baseball."  
  
"Try telling her that," I responded, keeping close to him. This is stupid because Jimmy knows he can't stop Gertie-- no one can, really. The instant you try, she acts like the innocent little, perfect girl who everyone mistreats. The instant we arrived, my thoughts came to a fact: everyone was circling Gertie, telling her that she could watch but couldn't play. She stood there, eyes wide, beseeching almost, her hair wildly strown by the wind that had suddenly rushed around us, pulling caps from heads and almost knocking some of us over.  
  
Of course, the youngest, Gill, was blown off his feet and flew back, hitting a tree face first. "I'm fine!"  
  
This made Gertie feel a little more confident, obviously, because she stepped forward and glared at us. "I'm the short stop. Understand?" There was such a look of furiousity in her eyes that we reluctantly agreed. Satisfied, she stepped to her place and we boys shrugged before going to ours.  
  
We had a system-- there were ten boys so we all got a turn at bat and each got to pitch. Well, now, there were nine boys and a girl so it wasn't too much different, really. Gill stood on the sidelines with Gertie's best friend, Maddy, as she took notes and someone bandaged up his scraped nose. So while we were playing, it was me pitching and one of the fatter kids in the school at bat-- Joe. He had an abnormally large head and a large body, as well.   
  
When I finally pitched-- after Gertie stopped bugging me--, Joe got a strike. He grunted anxiously and gripped the flimsily made bat between his hands.   
  
I pitched again but, during the time I took to glance over at Gertie to make sure she wasn't about to start something, instead of hearing the sound of the ball hitting the bat-- crack!-- I heard a thump and looked over to see Joe on the ground. "What happened?"  
  
"You hit him a good one, Chin boy." Gertie pushed through us and peered down at Joe.  
  
"Hit him with what?! I was standing over here!"  
  
"You hit him when you threw the ball at him, by my observations, Phil." Maddy adjusted the pencil behind her ear and brushed a brown strand of hair away from her eyes.  
  
"Oh. Uh, sorry, Joe." I ran my hands through my thick brown hair and winced at the look in Joe's eyes as he stood slowly up and looked around dizzily.  
  
"Hey, why are there five of each of you?..." He fell back, unconcious.  
  
"Good job," Gertie snickered, staring up at me with a cruel look on her face.  
  
* * *  
  
The next day, I walked to school, almost not worried at all about Joe. I didn't mean to do it so he couldn't have a problem with me. Right?   
  
Jimmy walked along with me. We were both silent. The sidewalk stretched on and on but finally we arrived at the schoolyard and I was glad to be there. Never thought I'd say that. Jimmy walked on into the classroom as I waited outside for Joe to arrive.  
  
When he finally did, I stood up and neared him. "Hey, Joe, you alright?" I asked, falling in step beside him.   
  
He turned and stared at me. "I guess. What was you're name, again?"  
  
I blinked a little. "Phil."  
  
His eyes narrowed as he looked me over. "I remember. You're the one that hit me in the head."  
  
"It was an accident," I tried to defend and he shook his head.  
  
"Maybe." After he said this, we continued on to the doorway and I thought everything would be ok but as soon as we were standing outside the classroom, he grabbed me by my thin shirt and hissed, "I'll see you after school."  
  
I gulped as he released me and continued into the room, his step thunderous and proud.  
  
* * *  
  
I walked quickly through the one and only hall but as soon as I had reached the door, his big hand was there and gripped my shirt again. I bit my lip as he pulled me out of the school and onto the sidewalk. I noticed Gertie and Maddy walking by and then they stopped and just watched. As Joe prepared to punch me, he wrapped a soiled cloth around his fist and then stood me up. My legs were too rubbery and I almost fell down.   
  
Gertie took another step towards us and I was getting a little worried that this would be a two-on-one thing until she grabbed his arm and held him back from hitting me. As she looked around at everyone watching, she became desperate and exclaimed, "Listen, Joe, don't do it here, right in front of the school. That's stupid, even for you. Find another place to do it."  
  
As Joe thought about this, his grip tightened on my shirt and he shrugged. "Ok. The field by your house, Phil." He started to pull me along and everyone followed. My life flashed through my eyes until I noticed that Maddy was whispering something to Jimmy. What were those two doing? Or, like it looked, what were they planning?  
  
Jimmy ran up then. "Joe!" he yelled. "What're you doing? Your pa won't like this much. I know if mine catch me at bullying, I'd be tanned from here to home."  
  
Joe dropped me and thought for a minute. "Uh. Didn't think of that." He rubbed his chin and thought harder. "Phil, get out of here. And don't tell Pa." He then ran off.  
  
I shrugged and grinned a little doubtfully as I turned to Jimmy. "Thanks, Jim."  
  
He shrugged, "It was Maddy's idea."  
  
"Oh, no, it was ok," she responded, blushing, before walking back to Gertie. "It worked, Gertie," she whispered, once out of earshot.  
  
"Yeah, of course it did, the pa card works everytime for Joe." The two walked on.  
  
"It was nice of you, though," Maddy offered.  
  
"It never happened," Gertie refused.  
  
"Oh. Yes. True, Gertie," Maddy responded, understanding the 'privacy policy' between them. 


	2. Ch 2

Just weeks after the whole "Joe's gonna kill me" thing passed, Jimmy and I got jobs to work at a port-a-potty.  
  
"This is gonna be the best job ever," Jimmy enthused as we walked towards the place.  
  
"Yep," I answered. And it seemed like it would be until we actually got there and saw the exact kind of work we had to do: dig trenches behind the port-a-potties. "Are you kiddin'?"  
  
Our new boss, Mr. Crapinski, shook his head and, looking around darkly, muttered, "You'll do what you were hired for."  
  
Jimmy made a sickened face as soon as Mr. Crapinski had turned away. I elbowed him before the older man turned around.   
  
"Here," he snarled, handing us shovels roughly.  
  
Jimmy groaned as soon as Mr. Crapinski had gone out of earshot and said to me, "How did we get in this mess?" Literally, as we looked down at the... 'mess' in front of us.  
  
"We wanted something to do," I grunted, sticking the shovel in and starting a little trench.  
  
"Anything but this," he gasped.  
-----  
  
After a week on the job, it seemed like an eternity, Jimmy and I had gotten a little more accustomed to the job, as disgusting as it could get.   
  
"Man, how much longer are we gonna do this?" Jimmy griped.  
  
"Not longer, just today, ok? Then we can quit and Pa won't be too mad at me for starting somethin' I couldn't finish."  
  
"Ok." We continued on until we were staring up at the sign that was in front of the Port-a-potties. Crapinski's Port-a-potties. It seemed like some sick joke.  
  
"Mr. Crapinski," I called. "We're here..."  
  
"Again..." Jimmy chimed.  
  
"Mr. Crapinski? Are you here?"   
  
"Ah," I heard faintly. It sounded like groans that followed it.  
  
Jimmy glanced at me. "What the ...?"  
  
"Who's there?" Mr. Crapinski yelled, sounding like he was in pain.  
  
"It's, err, us! Jimmy and Phil! Where are you?" Jimmy yelled back.  
  
"In one of the trenches!" he growled.  
  
We ran to the line of trenches and stared down at our boss, who was being held by a couple of policemen, who were handcuffing him. As they pulled him into a police buggy, our boss screamed out, "Jimmy Kafka! You are in control of my business!"  
  
I suddenly felt as if I had been smacked in the face. Why did he pick Jimmy? I had worked harder and done less complaining than Jimmy!  
  
Jimmy, however, was thrilled. "Did ya hear that, Phil?! I'm the boss!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I heard it," I said dully.  
  
"This is the best job ever," he cheered.  
-----  
  
For a few days, things went ok between us although I was a little more begrudging about things. On the following Saturday, however, I was a little more angry than usual and it all blasted apart.  
  
"Phil, could you clean out the port-a-potties?" This simple request did it. I threw down my shovel and glared up at Jimmy.   
  
"Hello! I'm a little busy here," I yelled. "I'm trying to dig this trench! With no help from you!"  
  
"I'm the boss! I'm not supposed ta help!"  
  
"I should've been boss," I yelled.  
  
"Well, shoulda woulda coulda," he cried. "I'm the boss!" He was repeated himself.  
  
"Fine! Be the boss!" I glared at him and then, grabbing my stuff, I left quickly.  
  
"I will!" he screamed.  
  
As I walked quickly along, I didn't notice where I was going and slammed right into Gertie, throwing her into the ground. "Oh. Er. Gertie. Sorry."  
  
"Have a fight with your friend?" she asked, smirking evilly.  
  
"Uh, yeah." As I leaned down to help her up, she stared into my eyes for a second and then pulled her arm away, brushing invisible dust from her dress.  
  
"What about?" she wondered, suddenly seeming... not so Gertie-ish.  
  
"He was made boss and I wasn't," I grumbled. It seemed almost natural to tell her something that I hadn't even told my pa.  
  
"Went to his head, did it?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. And I didn't help things."  
  
"Don't worry. It'll work out." She bit her lip and then walked off.  
  
I blinked. What a weird girl. 


	3. ch 3

Just weeks after the whole "Joe's gonna kill me" thing passed, Jimmy and I got jobs to work at a port-a-potty.  
  
"This is gonna be the best job ever," Jimmy enthused as we walked towards the place.  
  
"Yep," I answered. And it seemed like it would be until we actually got there and saw the exact kind of work we had to do: dig trenches behind the port-a-potties. "Are you kiddin'?"  
  
Our new boss, Mr. Crapinski, shook his head and, looking around darkly, muttered, "You'll do what you were hired for."  
  
Jimmy made a sickened face as soon as Mr. Crapinski had turned away. I elbowed him before the older man turned around.   
  
"Here," he snarled, handing us shovels roughly.  
  
Jimmy groaned as soon as Mr. Crapinski had gone out of earshot and said to me, "How did we get in this mess?" Literally, as we looked down at the... 'mess' in front of us.  
  
"We wanted something to do," I grunted, sticking the shovel in and starting a little trench.  
  
"Anything but this," he gasped.  
-----  
  
After a week on the job, it seemed like an eternity, Jimmy and I had gotten a little more accustomed to the job, as disgusting as it could get.   
  
"Man, how much longer are we gonna do this?" Jimmy griped.  
  
"Not longer, just today, ok? Then we can quit and Pa won't be too mad at me for starting somethin' I couldn't finish."  
  
"Ok." We continued on until we were staring up at the sign that was in front of the Port-a-potties. Crapinski's Port-a-potties. It seemed like some sick joke.  
  
"Mr. Crapinski," I called. "We're here..."  
  
"Again..." Jimmy chimed.  
  
"Mr. Crapinski? Are you here?"   
  
"Ah," I heard faintly. It sounded like groans that followed it.  
  
Jimmy glanced at me. "What the ...?"  
  
"Who's there?" Mr. Crapinski yelled, sounding like he was in pain.  
  
"It's, err, us! Jimmy and Phil! Where are you?" Jimmy yelled back.  
  
"In one of the trenches!" he growled.  
  
We ran to the line of trenches and stared down at our boss, who had obviously slipped and banged his leg on the cement ground, breaking his leg.  
  
"Get help, Jimmy," I ordered.  
  
"Sure thing," he said, wide eyed, before running off. Since there were no ambulances or real hospitals around for miles, we had to call our dads and they had to take Mr. Crapinski home.  
  
"Come on, Mr. Crapinski," Jimmy's dad said, trying to help the man up to his one good foot.  
  
"Wait," he growled. "Wait, I say!" He slapped Mr. Kafka's arm away and looked at Jimmy and me. "I hate to do it but you two'll have to run my port-a-potty business. Kafka's the boss and ... What's your last name again? You'll watch the customers."  
  
I suddenly felt as if I had been smacked in the face. Why did he pick Jimmy? I had worked harder and done less complaining than Jimmy!  
  
Jimmy, however, was thrilled. "Did ya hear that, Phil?! I'm the boss!"  
  
"Oh, yeah, I heard it," I said dully.  
  
"This is the best job ever," he cheered.  
-----  
  
For a few days, things went ok between the two although I was a little more begrudging about things. On the following Saturday, however, I was a little more angry than usual and it all blasted apart.  
  
"Phil, could you clean out the port-a-potties?" This simple request did it. I threw down my shovel and glared up at Jimmy.   
  
"Hello! I'm a little busy here," I yelled. "I'm trying to dig this trench! With no help from you!"  
  
"I'm the boss! I'm not supposed ta help!"  
  
"I should've been boss," I yelled.  
  
"Well, shoulda woulda coulda," he cried. "I'm the boss!" He was repeated himself.  
  
"Fine! Be the boss!" I glared at him and then, grabbing my stuff, I left quickly.  
  
"I will!" he screamed.  
  
As I walked quickly along, I didn't notice where I was going and slammed right into Gertie, throwing her into the ground. "Oh. Er. Gertie. Sorry."  
  
"Have a fight with your friend?" she asked, smirking evilly.  
  
"Uh, yeah." As I leaned down to help her up, she stared into my eyes for a second and then pulled her arm away, brushing invisible dust from her dress.  
  
"What about?" she wondered, suddenly seeming... not so Gertie-ish.  
  
"He was made boss and I wasn't," I grumbled. It seemed almost natural to tell her something that I hadn't even told my pa.  
  
"Went to his head, did it?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah, I guess so. And I didn't help things."  
  
"Don't worry. It'll work out." She bit her lip and then walked off.  
  
I blinked. What a weird girl. 


End file.
